Online story: "Mitt Romney will campaign Friday in New Hampshire, looking for his own "bridge to nowhere." The Romney camp thinks they have found it in a 19th century bridge no longer used for traffic that was restored with state and federal funds." -- Gosh.. Restoring a bridge that no longer is used for traffic to get somewhere. How dumb can you get... Wait a minute...we have one of those restorations going on right here in River City as we speak. Oooops! --- Online story: "Debt collectors may have a worse reputation in the eyes of the public than members of Congress, ambulance-chasing lawyers and even sleazy tabloid journalists. And some recent headlines won't improve their standing anytime soon. * The earnings of some student-loan debt collectors raised eyebrows when it was revealed this week that some of them make over $450,000, more than twice the pay of the U.S. Secretary of Education. Seven employees at Educational Credit Management, a Minnesota nonprofit group that works with the government to collect on loans in default, earned more than $400,000 through commissions up to 31 percent, reports Bloomberg News. ECM, whose CEO Richard Boyle earned $1.1 million in 2010, is one of 32 groups that oversee student loans for the government." --These must be some of the "shovel ready" jobs potUS Arpege has created, and we know what they are shoveling! --- From the 'if you have no evidence, throw out the race trump card' department - Online story: ""The police concluded that none of this would have happened if George Zimmerman hadn't gotten out of his car," said attorney Ben Crump. "If George Zimmerman hadn't gotten out of his car, they say it was completely avoidable. That is the headline." -- If we are going to play the 'IF' game, what would happen IF Trayvon Martin had not been suspended from school and shipped off by his mother to his father who didn't have a residence of his own to house Trayvon? What IF Trayvon Martin had been more interested in making good grades in school? We can play the 'IF' game forever, and not change the facts, and the facts are supporting Zimmerman's story. --- Please explain to me why Congress is wasting time, energy and money on persecuting Roger Clemens? Congress would make better use of those resources grilling Charlie Rangel, Chris Dodd, and Barney Frank on ethics violations. --- L-E story: "An 18-year-old with two children pleaded guilty Wednesday to robbery and was sentenced to six years in prison, followed by four on probation. * The victim thought he recognized one of the suspects from school, leading him to the Eddy Middle School yearbook. Flipping through the pages, he pointed out Lockhart – who wore a mohawk at the time -- as one of the suspects, said Assistant District Attorney Brad Bickerstaff. * Police then searched Lockhart’s room and found notebooks from the stolen backpack in his closet, Bickerstaff added. * First of all, it’s just stupid,” said assistant public defender Ray Lakes. “He’s had about two years to get his head around how dumb this was.” * Lakes said his client hopes to enter the Job Corps once he’s released from prison." -- The public defender hopes he will enter the Job Corp ? If he wanted a job, he'd been out looking for one of those rather than a victim to rob. How about entering the real world and taking responsibility of the 2 children he's fathered in his mid-teens! --- We may have to look harder at Romney as if he's ready to run for president. Yesterday, he said he wanted to run on the issues... how naive... There's no way potUS Arpege nor the mainstream media is interested in discussing, much less debating potUS Arpege and the DIM&DUMBERat record. --- Online story: "Autopsy results reportedly indicate that 17-year-old Trayvon Martin had injuries to his knuckles when he died, which could support George Zimmerman’s claim that the unarmed teenager assaulted him before he was fatally shot." -- Tuesday it was reported that Zimmerman had 2 black eyes, a broken nose, a busted and swollen lip, back pains, and lacerations on the back of his head for which he was treated for at the scene, and the next day by his personal doctor. Unfortunately, those proclaiming they only want justice can only keep claiming that by ignoring the facts. OK, potUS Arpege (this should be easy for you to do....) and Eric Holder apologize for your rash and racist accusations. Fox News.. NOW fire Geraldo, and Shepard Smith! --- Update - The autopsy revealed that little 12 year old - OOOOPS - 6' 2". 175 pound 17-year-old Trayvon Martin had marijuana in his blood. That would explain both his actions and his sudden urge for Skittles. --- Joe Biden is out on the campaign trail telling his followers that, "They" don't get us! Trouble is VpotUS Biden, is that everyone does 'get' you. You want to destroy and/or punish success. You want your supporters to become millionaires, but on the backs of those willing to work hard to attain it. And stop blaming your grandparents for making you believe what you believe! No wonder his PR personnel doesn't want the press to pin him down for questioning! --- A timely and cryptic L-E "soundoff": "I wonder has God evolved yet." -- I do believe God is, has been, and always will be perfect, unlike a certain pretender to His throne. --- L-E story: "WASHINGTON — For the first time, racial and ethnic minorities make up more than half the children born in the U.S., capping decades of heady immigration growth that is now slowing. * Minorities made up roughly 2.02 million, or 50.4 percent of U.S. births in the 12-month period ending July 2011. That compares with 37 percent in 1990." -- OK, clarification please... how are babies of mixed marriages/relationships 'counted'? Recent media standards have flip-flopped all over the board. potUS Arpege had a black father and a white mother and the media and DIM&DUMBERats consider him a minority issue; George Zimmerman has a white father and a Latino mother but the media and DIM&DUMBERats consider him a majority issue. When will the media and DIM&DUMBERats start considering Americans just as Americans... wasn't that Martin Luther King's dream? --- Letter sent to Council: The downtown parking survey... without the CSU students being fully active in classes, results will be skewed from reality unless there is a follow up survey done, say, in September after the Fall Semester is in full swing. Lets look at another aspect... how accurate will it be? Will surveyors report factually, or will the temptation to make up info prevail? Why not use Metra employees to canvas the garages, but have aerial photography take overhead shots that will have actual vehicles parked and in motion at specific times and at specific intervals. Probably would cost less, too. Lets look at parking costs and the less than enthusiastic use of the garages in downtown. Has anyone actually parsed the rates. To my knowledge, spaces are available at $30.00 a month for a space. On the surface, that sounds like a reasonable $1.00 per day, but in reality, most downtown workers work only 5 days a and need a space only 20 days a month. Throw in that nights and weekends are not charged for, and patrons only get their spaces for 20 days so the $30.00 rate is basically $1.50 a day. How about charging downtown workers a monthly fee of $15.00. On surface, that looks like only $ .50 a day, but based on reality, it's $ .75 a day. Also, since a single ticket now is $17.00 per violation, I'd think more downtown workers would think of paying less than a single ticket (and not having to remember to run out and move their vehicles multiple times a day) would be rather inviting. Certainly, one space at $15.00 will bring in more revenue than zero spaces at $30.00. Another on street parking change would be for making the parking limit 3 hours instead of 2. If you're wanting to attract day customers for lunch and retail sales, 2 hours is not enough time for those customers to eat and shop. Just ideas, and I'm glad things are in motion, but lets make it successful to spend the money on surveys. --- The recent uproar about the L-E playing with comic strips reminds me of the time that the L-E stopped publishing the best two comic strips they've ever had - "Shoe" and "Mallard Fillmore" - simply because their humor was so good that even liberals had to laugh at themselves.. which, by liberal standards, is a no-no because it wasn't politically correct. --- L-R headline/story: "RFK Jr.’s estranged wife hanged herself * A person familiar with the investigation into her death says that authorities have concluded that her death was a suicide. " -- While certainly we grieve at the unnecessary death of people, is it just me, or does it seem that when a woman involved with a Kennedy man in Massachusetts dies, the authorities quickly exonerate the Kennedy men? --- L-E's "Late laughs" : PRESIDENT OBAMA went on “The View.” He went on the “The View” because they’re the only group of women the president trusts his Secret Service agents to be around." -- Don't you love it when liberals turn on their own? --- L-E story: "Two men accused of having almost $20,000 worth of cocaine pleaded not guilty Thursday in Columbus Recorder’s Court and were ordered held without bond. " -- Hmmm, the first question that should be asked is how did they accumulate/'earn' the money to buy that amount of illegal drugs, and then the names should be turned over to the IRS to check their last few years of tax filings. --- Now everyone thinks a 4-team playoff will resolve which football team is #1. Five years from now, everyone will be disappointed that one team got a lucky draw in seeding, and that's not 'fair' so it should be a round-robin playoff. That won't solve anything either so everyone will want a 64 team NCAA playoff system like basketball. When that's not enough, everyone will want to make the playoffs 'double elimination. Why don't we just go back to the system of coaches, media, and Monday morning quarterbacks deciding which team is best, but we better hurry before DIM&DUMBERats start calling for games to be played without keeping score, and that the best looking uniforms should determine the best team. --- Maybe it is better that the US space teams fly in Russian rockets. Can you imagine the embarrassment if our astronauts had to undergo TSA inspections before getting in the shuttles? Look out, Army, Navy, and Air Force...y'all are next! --- The following is sent in response to a fellow BCer. Enjoy and reflect. Burial at Sea (Every American Should Read This!) To only those who would and could appreciate it. This account is one of a kind. A powerful one that touches your heart. Tough duty then as it is now. Burial at Sea by Lt Col George Goodson, USMC (Ret) In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial... War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it. Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded there,Vietnam was my war. Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams of Americans and Montagnards fought much larger elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane: *The smell of Nuc Mam. *The heat, dust, and humidity. *The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets. *Elephants moving silently through the tall grass. *Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers. *Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar. *A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby. *The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao. *My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland. It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam. Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car. A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At 5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two. I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification Jacket." Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?" I replied "18 months this time." Jolly breathed, you must be a slow learner Colonel." I smiled. Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the Sergeant Major. I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office." Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant Major. He's been in this job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm worried about him." I nodded. Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office. "Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Office. The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, "Good to see you again, Colonel." I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?" Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door. I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable. Finally, I said, "Walt, what's the h-ll's wrong?" He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months... Now I come here to bury these kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore." I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps." Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much suffering. He was used up. Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory. Four, however, remain. MY FIRST NOTIFICATION My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The information detailed: *Name, rank, and serial number. *Name, address, and phone number of next of kin. *Date of and limited details about the Marine's death. *Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station. *A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed. The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line intoNorth Carolina, I stopped at a small country store / service station / Post Office. I went in to ask directions. Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The Store owner walked up and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper." I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin's name was John Cooper! I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address.) The father looked at me - I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor. The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving. I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said, "Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars." I shook his hand and said; "Neither would I." I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there all night, alone. My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification. THE FUNERALS Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag. When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, "All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On behalf of a grateful nation...." I didn't think the nation was grateful, so I didn't say that. Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her. ANOTHER NOTIFICATION Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!" I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen later, the father came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving. The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly. ANOTHER NOTIFICATION One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel." I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of employment. The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman's Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father's schedule. The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?" I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today." I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that." The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and I were Marines in WWII." I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?" She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?" I said, "I'm sorry. It's important. I need to see him now." She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for you." A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, "Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!" Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth. I never could do that … and held an imaginary phone to his ear. Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got it." and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago. Jolly, "Where?" Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland. The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam..." Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home." He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it, Colonel?" I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime. He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00 PM). "I've gone through my boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you make that happen?" I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will." My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?" I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying." I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?" General Bowser said," George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you. I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him the story. He turned to his Chief of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief of Staff responded with a name. The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this mission is completed..." He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship, Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass." I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the h-ll out of his office. I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said, "These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from floating?" All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the retired guys from World War II hang out." They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear, and said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the casket. We can handle that, no sweat." The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth. The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played "Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the head and it slid into the sea. The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet, stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket disappeared from sight forever.... The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me out of here. I can't take this anymore." I was transferred two weeks later. I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and too much suffering. I was used up. Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done." I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor! A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America ' for an amount of ‘up to and including their life.' That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it. --- Since the L-E won't identify columnist Karl Douglass as a paid campaign staffer for Sanford Bishop, I'm going to run this May 6th 'item' often in my blog (and place in the L-E online comments area) until the L-E does the right thing: I see the L-E has run another Karl Douglass column without identifying him as a paid member of the re-elect Sanford Bishop organization. Fortunately, Karl had some pretty wise words to say about financial responsibility of our City. I would have been more impressed, though, if he had directed such advice and comments to his employer, Congressman Bishop!